Silver Strand
by Clara Barton
Summary: Summary: The world had shifted, boundaries had been crossed, right and wrong had long ago been abandoned. A dark story of revenge, love, loss and drug smuggling. AU set in Coronado, California in the 1970s. Based on/Inspired by Joshuah Bearman's "Coronado High"
1. Chapter 1

A/N: As always, thank you to Ro for your patience, encouragement and friendship. You are a remarkable beta reader.

Warnings: angst, language, violence, character death, drugs, sex

Pairings: 2x3, 1x2, 2x5, 3x5, 2x3x5, 2x13, 4x6, HxR, 9xS, 1xD, others

 _Silver Strand_

Lucy handed over the binoculars with an indignant huff.

Heero adjusted the lenses in front of his eyes and felt his stomach revolt at the memory of sweltering heat, razor-sharp foliage and the thunder of explosions that rose to the surface.

He pushed back the memory, forced himself to remember that he was HERE. Coronado Beach. Thousands of miles and sixteen months away from Vietnam.

Once he felt steady, Heero focused on the sight before him, using the binoculars to pick out the details that he and Lucy, from their vantage point by the highway, couldn't make out with their naked eyes.

To anyone else, the small gathering on the beach probably looked like a bunch of surfers grilling after a lazy afternoon in the sun.

And the assortment of boards, towels, coolers and golden, half-naked bodies gathered around a portable grill only reinforced that idea.

But Heero and Lucy weren't anyone else, and they had been watching this group - this eclectic crew of Coronado locals - for too long to be fooled.

He could pick out Treize, manning the grill and watching over his vassals with a smug smirk.

Treize, who had been Heero's Spanish teacher and coach of the basketball team, and who, if the rumors were to be believed, ran the Silver Strand smuggling company.

Every person on that beach was familiar to Heero - classmates from high school or former neighbors - and every single one of them had a headshot pinned to the huge corkboard in the office that Heero and Lucy shared.

The newly-formed DEA was sharing office space with the San Diego Animal Control Center's administrative offices - a fact that chafed every day that Heero had to walk into the damn building - and if Lucy and Heero could make this case, it would go a hell of a long way towards getting the local DEA branch enough funding to actually be functional.

All Heero had to do was take down the people he had grown up with.

He looked away from Treize and focused on Duo Maxwell. His long brown hair was streaked with gold, his eyes covered with dark sunglasses, his shorts riding so low on his hips that Heero could see the bare curve of his ass and the sculpted lines of his pelvis. He was laughing, waving his hands to tell some story, and he looked golden and perfect.

Duo had been Heero's first kiss - his first damn near everything.

Was he about to be Heero's first big bust?


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: As always, thank you to Ro for your patience, encouragement and friendship. You are a remarkable beta reader.

Warnings: angst, language, violence, character death, drugs, sex

Pairings: 2x3, 1x2, 2x5, 3x5, 2x3x5, 2x13, 4x6, HxR, 9xS, 1xD, others

Trowa imagined he could still feel the effects of the sun on Duo's body, imagined that the supple flesh between his hands radiated heat from the blazing orb just now setting across the water. He imagined that the salt he licked from Duo's neck was from the water, a lingering wave that had chased after him as Duo surfed through the tides. He imagined the breathless laugh, tinged with lust, that slipped from Duo's lips was the lingering joy of a day spent basking in the golden California afternoon.

He imagined that he could feel all of those things, imagined that he could be as careless and carefree.

He imagined that the heavy breezes that occasionally lifted the surf didn't remind him of wading through shallow waters with his rifle held just high enough to keep dry. He imagined that the sun baking down overhead didn't remind him of treks across open fields, imagined that he didn't still feel the tickle of fear at the base of his neck that meant someone was watching, meant an enemy was close by and death was imminent. He imagined that he didn't touch Duo and remember the lifeless bodies he had had to push aside just so he could escape the clutches of death. He imagined that Duo's soft moans of pleasure didn't remind him of the whimpers of men dying.

He had always had a good imagination, but maybe that was part of the problem. Maybe that was why he struggled to stay grounded in reality, maybe that was why memory and sensation and nightmare warred with him constantly.

"Babe," Duo crooned, just a little impatient, his movements insistent.

Trowa clutched onto him, the warm, firm skin of Duo's thighs a lifeline.

He felt Duo shift, felt the slick heat of his anus glide against Trowa's hard cock, and Trowa held his breath as Duo took him in hand and positioned him.

He slid into Duo's body in one swift, sharp motion, both of them gasping, both of them clutching each other.

Duo rode him, slowly, each movement a lingering caress, a tease of intimacy. Trowa lay back, held on and let Duo set the pace, let himself forget everything but the fit of Duo against him, made himself map the lines of Duo's lean torso and his powerful legs and arms, made himself meet Duo's half-closed eyes.

He wanted to drown in Duo, wanted to melt into his body and leave everything else behind.

Duo felt it, always could, and his fingers tightened on Trowa's shoulders.

"Tro."

It was a gasp, a plea that made Trowa feel desperate and desolate.

He dug his fingers into Duo's hips, saw the wince on Duo's face and immediately loosened his hold.

"No, no, s'fine," Duo panted as his body moved, his pace turning feverish and his face and body flushed with arousal.

He was close, his weeping cock begging for attention, and Trowa ignored Duo's assurances. He took hold of Duo's cock and stroked it.

Trowa could feel his own climax approaching, could feel the tightening in his balls and the tension in his thighs, and the urge to thrust savagely into Duo's body was almost overwhelming.

Duo whimpered, and his fingers spasmed.

"Tro. Babe. Oh, babe- Oh please, please- Trowa!"

Trowa held him as Duo came, milking his cock and easing him down from orgasm, taking in the sated, sloppy grin on Duo's face and feeling a painful tug on his heart.

His own climax felt bittersweet, felt like relief and guilt and pleasure spun into a complex web that left him feeling drained and vulnerable in ways he hated.

Duo moved, cum leaving a streak across Trowa's thighs and belly, and Duo shifted to lay down on the bed beside him.

Trowa lifted his arm and Duo fit himself against his side, cheek over Trowa's heart.

"Tro?"

I'm here.

Trowa wanted to say it, wanted to mean it.

But Duo hated when he lied.

Instead, he tangled his fingers in Duo's hair and closed his eyes and tried to breathe.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: As always, thank you to Ro for your patience, encouragement and friendship. You are a remarkable beta reader.

Warnings: angst, language, violence, character death, drugs, sex

Pairings: 2x3, 1x2, 2x5, 3x5, 2x3x5, 2x13, 4x6, HxR, 9xS, 1xD, others

"You're alive."

Heero stared at him, his face as calm and unnerving as the ocean before a storm.

Duo realized he should say something else - anything else. Pointing out the obvious to Heero wasn't going to propel this chance meeting away from awkwardness anytime soon.

But after a moment, Heero nodded.

"I got back last year."

Words that had an all-too-familiar curl of rage growing in Duo's belly.

"Last YEAR?" he clarified.

Heero nodded again.

"And this is the first time you've set foot in Coronado?" It wasn't really a question - wasn't even a guess.

Another nod, and Heero's equilibrium started to falter at Duo's answering glare.

"You've been alive and away from that hellhole for a YEAR-"

"Sixteen months."

"Did you even tell your mom? Did you make her wait this long to know if you were safe?"

Heero shook his head in the negative. And while Duo was relieved that he had at least done that, it made it even more abundantly clear that Heero hadn't even thought to tell Duo he was still alive.

Duo, who had learned to surf beside Heero in the warm, shallow waters just a few yards from Heero's bedroom. Duo, who had learned how to kiss, how to tease, how to fuck in that same bedroom. Duo, who had watched his brother get drafted, who had watched Trowa volunteer, and then, after everyone else had left him, had had to see even Heero drafted and shipped off. Duo, who hadn't heard a word - hadn't received a single letter - in almost four years from Heero.

"Well that's fucking great."

Duo slammed the hood of the car closed.

"Get your oil changed and have someone look at the radiator."

Heero reached into his pocket for his wallet.

"How much do I owe you?"

Duo glared at him, fought the urge to rip the bills out of the wallet and throw them into the wind.

"Nothing," he snarled as he shoved his hands into his pockets. "You don't owe me anything."

He got back into the cab of the truck and waited until Heero drove off, waited until his anger faded and he was left with just relief, just despair, just a dark pit of emptiness where his heart had once been.

Heero was alive. That was something. It was so much more than Heero being dead.

And somewhere out there, Trowa was alive.

And at home, in his room, staring at the ocean, Solo was alive too.

Everyone Duo loved was alive.

And everyone Duo loved had left him.


End file.
